


Zenith

by belgardebells



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Adults, Bellamy is 25, Best Friends, Clarke is 20, Demisexuality, Emotional Sex, F/M, First Crush, Fluff, Heartwarming, Loving Sex, Making Love, One Shot, Roommates, Smut, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-16 22:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16504235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belgardebells/pseuds/belgardebells
Summary: Clarke realizes she's never had an orgasm before. Bellamy offers to change that.





	Zenith

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nourgelitnius (Ladysarah)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladysarah/gifts).



> *ambulance sounds*
> 
> Song mood - [Electric](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uwWrSR8SFEc&ab_channel=AlinaBaraz) by Alina Baraz feat. Khalid.

Bellamy was the first person Clarke ever had a crush on. It developed naturally. She was always at his house growing up given her best friendship with Octavia, and Bellamy was nothing but nice to her, the nicest anyone had ever been. He let her have two scoops of ice cream even though her parents only let her have one; he took her and Octavia to the mall even though he had better things to do; he came to get her at two in the morning after some guy at a house party tried to drug her drink when she was only sixteen. Bellamy was always there for her when she needed him, appearing in the darkest moments of her life like some kind of guardian angel, or knight in shining armour. It was cheesy, but it was real, and it would have been weirder not to like him at all.

Eventually, easily, they fell into the sort of relationship that was bound to be permanent, no matter what. She graduated high school and she and Octavia moved into the apartment across the hall from Bellamy's. Octavia met Lincoln in their second year of University, and in their third, Lincoln moved in. A few months later, after coaxing from Bellamy, Clarke moved across the hall into his. They had a fight early on about Clarke repeatedly not notifying Bellamy when she was going to be home late, and then they had another fight a few weeks later about Bellamy using their kitchen to try to resuscitate a mouse he'd found in the outside hall.

Besides that, it was easy living. Maybe even a little too easy. Being with Bellamy was simple, simpler even than being with Octavia. They just worked, like matching puzzle pieces, clicking into place when they were together.

They both had sexual lives for the most part (Clarke didn't have much of one, but she had  _tried_ for the sake of her asshole libido that seemed to shut off only when she was actually about to satisfy it), but Clarke never brought anyone home, and neither did Bellamy. It was an unspoken rule. She didn't really know why it was a rule, she only knew that she was  _certain_ she would have been uncomfortable hearing Bellamy having sex in the next room. She never asked him, but she assumed they were on the same page with that.

It had been almost six months living with him, and Clarke couldn't for the life of her figure out why they didn't do it sooner. He was the perfect house partner for her, and she for him.

They were stretched out on opposite sides of their black, faux-leather couch, watching The 100: True Crime Syndicate. It was some crime show on HBO with a ton of sex and violence. It was Bellamy's show; Clarke usually didn't watch it since she was so busy with school. The Summer months had arrived, though, and it was her first day as a free woman; at least until September rolled around.

It wasn't a great show. Clarke didn't really know why Bellamy watched it. The sex scenes were so over-the-top, and there were so  _many._ They'd been watching for maybe twenty minutes, and there had already been three cringe-worthy make-out sessions wherein the hotshot crime boss McCreary had intense, uncomfortable-looking sex with his partner in crime Diyoza. Once was up against the wall, once on a pile of money, and the other over the railing of a building, which was probably supposed to be thrilling, but all Clarke could think about was how incredibly reckless and irresponsible they were being.

Five minutes later, there was yet  _another_ sex scene, but this one differed from the others in that McCreary was sleeping with someone else. Diyoza's sexual reactions alone were hard to watch, but she might as well be subdued compared to the new girl. New girl was making all kinds of faces, crying out in the phoniest, most cliche moans Clarke had ever heard. 

When it became a little too enthusiastic, Clarke snorted, taking a pull from her beer.

"What?" Bellamy mumbled, eyes glued to the TV.

"Nothing," she mumbled back, and then tipped her beer to the TV. "That's just so fake."

He looked at her, frowning.

"It's a TV show. They're acting."

She cast him an unimpressed look. "I know _that_. But still, they should make it realistic."

Bellamy looked at the TV again, silent for a moment while McCreary and nameless new girl rolled around in the sheets.

"What's not realistic?" he asked.

"This," she said, nodding her chin to the TV. "Sex isn't like that."

Bellamy snorted. "Yeah, it is. What kind of horrible sex are you having?"

Clarke lightly furrowed her brow, saying nothing. Bellamy glanced at her, and then back to the TV.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I was just kidding."

The sex scene ended and the show cut to a commercial. Bellamy rose with a grunt, empty beer bottle in hand. He nudged Clarke's beer toward her mouth so she would drink the last of it, but she shook her head.

"I'm done," she said, handing it off to him.

He drank the rest on his way to the kitchen where he dropped them into the recycling can. He hadn't even had recycling when Clarke moved in. He still complained about having to do it sometimes, like it was some big chore putting bottles in one can instead of another, but he used it all the same.

Clarke stared unseeing at the glass top of the coffee table while Bellamy rifled around in their snack cupboard.

"You want anything while I'm here?" he asked. "We have to make a grocery run so there's not much." There was the sound of crunching. "Stale Doritos. Want 'em?"

"Is it really like that?" she asked, a little meek.

"Yeah, they're pretty stale, to be honest."

"I mean sex," she said, still facing away from him.

He looked over his shoulder at her. "What? What did you say before?"

"Is it like that? Like how it was on the show."

Bellamy scoffed, turning back to the cupboard.

"I know you've had sex, kid."

"Not like _that_."

He was quiet for a moment, the bag lightly crinkling when he set it down on the counter, and then turned to lean back against it so he was facing her.

"What does that mean?"

She shrugged a shoulder, pulling her feet up underneath her.

"It means what I said. For _you_ , is it always so..." she paused, shaking her head, and then turned her head to meet his eyes, "...like that?"

Bellamy closed his fingers around the edge of the counter behind him.

"If it's good," he said, nodding, "yeah. It's hard to stay quiet when you're having an orgasm."

Clarke looked away again with a nod, chewing on her lower lip.

"Who knows?" said Bellamy, grabbing the bag again and coming back to the couch, plopping down on his end. "Maybe you just have weak orgasms. You should get that checked."

"I don't have  _weak_ orgasms," she muttered, face heating.

"Well, whatever," he said, unaffected. "Nothing wrong with it if you do."

She sighed, muted, and watched a commercial for some children's toy.

It wasn't like she thought of Bellamy as some sort of sex connoisseur, but she didn't typically talk about this with anyone, and now she wanted to know.

"How would you know if you had an orgasm?"

She just asked because she wanted to be sure, wanted to confirm that she  _did_ have them, they just weren't explosive or intense or as incredible as they were depicted in porn.

She wasn't expecting Bellamy to be so vehement about the question.

"What the fuck?" he said sharply, tossing the chip bag on the coffee table and leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "You would just know. Have you never had an orgasm?"

She could feel his eyes burning into her face, but she was suddenly too shy to look at him.

"I don't ... no. I don't know. Maybe."

 _"What?_ You've never had an orgasm?"

"I don't know!" she said shrilly. "Stop asking me!"

He was quiet for only a moment longer. When he did speak, his tone was less shocked, more confused.

"Why haven't you?"

Maybe she had. What did Bellamy know? Anyway, he was a guy. He wasn't the leading expert on female orgasms.

"How should I know?" she said instead of any of that.

Bellamy relaxed back into the couch, still looking at her.

"What about like, on your own?"

"I don't do stuff on my own," she said, pulling her hands into her sweater sleeves.

Bellamy snorted. "You're fuckin' lying."

"No, I'm not!" she said, whacking the couch cushion between them since she couldn't reach him. "Stop that."

She'd tried once or twice, but it was just ... uninteresting; a little awkward even though there was no one else around.

"You seriously don't masturbate?"

"Okay - what's with the third degree here? I just wanted to know if sex was normally so noisy, not to be quizzed back to front on my entire sexual history."

The show came back on. Bellamy was quiet for the first few minutes, and then another sex scene started, and Clarke didn't really feel like watching anymore.

She rose to go to her room, but Bellamy's soft voice reached her easily when he turned off the television.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to pry, or ... I'm sorry."

Clarke curled her fingers gently against her palms, feeling an inexplicable rise of embarrassment.

"It doesn't matter."

She went to her room and collapsed on her back on her bed with the door open. Bellamy didn't turn the TV back on, and Clarke rolled to her side, staring out her window.

"I could show you, if you want."

She sighed. "Show me what?"

"What it's like," he said quietly. "When you reach ... zenith." Clarke lifted her head, staring at him. "I know I can get you there. I promise it'll feel nice."

Her face and chest warmed, a small tremble arcing down her spine. She sat all the way up.

"You mean sex?"

He swallowed, nodding, and Clarke's lips parted.

"Won't that be weird?"

Bellamy shrugged a shoulder. "Not for me. You?"

She imagined it, just for a second, imagined being bare and open beneath Bellamy, in her bed and then in his. Both settings had the same effect. Her heart was beating harder, her mouth dry.

"I don't know," she said, and then fell back onto her bed again, blinking up at the ceiling. "Maybe."

"Well," he said, pausing as he rose and went to his own bedroom, "just think about it."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Clarke was popping up in Bellamy's door frame. He was sitting on the edge of his bed doing nothing, hands clasped, but he looked up when he saw her.

Clarke sighed sharply. "I'm going to start by saying I  _don't_ think of you as a brother."

Bellamy nodded once, lips parting. "That's good."

 _"But -_ because there is a but - I'm ... very comfortable with you."

He nodded again. "I know."

She wet her lips, staring at him and blinking quickly. She didn't even know what she was talking about. That statement wasn't really grounds for a 'but'.

"So I'm going to say yes."

He was silent for a beat, and then, "Okay."

"Okay."

Bellamy let out an abrupt laugh, one eyebrow shooting up.

"Was that all?"

She stared for a moment, and then nodded once.

"Yes."

It took him a second, but he stood, coming slowly toward her. Her hands were braced on either side of the door frame, and Bellamy took them both in his own.

She didn't look at him, so he stroked the backs of her hands with his thumbs.

"Are you shy?"

Like she was trying to prove something, she met his eyes, warm and brown and caring.

"A little," she admitted, even though she hadn't want to.

Bellamy nodded. "It's gonna be good for you. I promise I'll make it good."

Clarke swallowed, and Bellamy stepped back to pull his hoodie over his head, his shirt riding up. She watched him, wiping her sweaty palms on her shorts.

"Can I make a request?" she blurted as Bellamy tossed his sweater aside. "You can say no."

"Yeah. Anything."

She shifted her weight. "Can we go without condoms?"

He stared, face blank, and Clarke rushed to repeat herself.

"You can say no, it's not--"

"Are you sure?" he interrupted, lips parted.

She blinked rapidly, posture tense.

"I won't get pregnant or anything ... or, it's very unlikely. I have an IUD, and I'm clean."

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm - I'm clean, too."

When he didn't say anything else, Clarke bit her lip, shy.

"I just kind of ... want it without condoms. Unless you don't."

"I'm ... I'm good with that."

She exhaled in a rush. "Yeah?"

He swallowed, nodding. "Yeah."

He made no move toward her, so Clarke grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She wasn't wearing a bra. Bellamy's eyes snapped down to her chest and then quickly back up to her face, but she wanted him to look. Her heart was pounding. It was like this was her first time. Actually, she didn't think she was even this nervous for her first time. This was something else, like some other experience entirely.

Bellamy stayed rooted to the spot, so Clarke came up to him instead, eyes on his shirt. She slowly slid the hem up, and when it bunched under his arms, Bellamy helped her take it the rest of the way off. He chucked it to the side, looking at her, hands delicately dropping to her waist. Clarke shimmied out of her shorts and panties together, kicking them to the side. With a careful, controlled exhale, she stepped closer and slipped her hands beneath the band of his sweatpants. He stroked her sides, and she pulled them down.

But then her fingers were trembling too hard to take off his boxers. He was already tenting them, and Clarke felt some surge of emotion she never had before, something powerful and almost aching in her heart, something that felt very much like yearning.

She clenched her hands to fists, trying to stop their trembling. Bellamy noticed and brought his own to her face, fingers brushing through her hair.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, touching her shoulders, sliding his palms down to hold her upper arms.

"I'm nervous," she said, voice wavering.

Bellamy nodded. "Me, too. Should we stop?"

Clarke met his eyes, feeling overwhelmed beyond belief, though she couldn't put her finger on why. Her lower lip trembled and she knitted her brows, eyes filling with tears.

Bellamy jerked his head back, alarmed. "Clarke? Hey - hey, it's okay." He firmly rubbed her arms, shaking his head. "We don't have to. All right? We don't have to do anything."

"That's not why--I don't know why I'm crying," she said, sniffling. "I want to. Don't you want to?"

"Clarke...." he said, frowning.

She pressed closer, unfurling her fingers to touch his waist, holding his gaze.

"I'm not lying," she promised as Bellamy wiped her tears from her cheeks. "I'm sorry I'm crying. It's weird, I know it's weird, I'm just - I'm feeling a lot right now."

He looked back and forth between her eyes, brows still furrowed, and cupped her jaw.

"I would never do anything to hurt you."

She nodded quickly. "I know."

"Do you promise you want to do this?"

She nodded again, swallowing. "I promise."

"Because I only want it if you do. If you don't want to, then neither do I."

Soft warmth pulsed in her chest, tendrils of heat spreading through her body.

Instead of responding, she tilted her head up and pressed her lips to his, sliding one hand up to his chest. His heart was pounding beneath her fingers. He didn't kiss her back at first, making her nervous, but in the next second, his hands were tilting her face to her mouth, and he was kissing her. Clarke grabbed his wrists as he walked them back to his bed, her heart in her throat. He sat on the edge, legs open, and hoisted her up onto him. As soon as she was seated on his lap, he went back to kissing her, his hands delicate and soft everywhere they touched her.

He was getting harder and harder beneath her, and Clarke could not for the life of her understand how she was getting so turned on. She'd had sex with a few people before, but her sex drive was nowhere to be seen either time. They were weird experiences, not horrible, but not something she'd ever want to try again.

Except for now. Now, she rolled her hips over him, grinding slowly against his hardness.

Bellamy grunted softly, rocking up to meet her. All at once, she felt his cock slip out through the hole in his boxers, and then it was skin to skin, the length of him pressing against her wet flesh. Clarke gasped at the same time Bellamy moaned. They both froze, breathing heavily and looking at one another, and then slowly, Clarke slid herself along him.

Bellamy's eyes closed, lips parting, and Clarke kissed him, holding his face in her hands. He groaned under his breath, letting her slide her labia against him. She wanted him inside her, and she'd never felt that urge before with anyone. She felt so safe here, so looked after, so tended to.

She was about to ask for more, for what she wanted, but Bellamy spoke first.

"Has anyone ever gone down on you?"

She hesitated and pulled back. The look on Bellamy's face made her rub against him again, turned on by his own blatant willingness to be vulnerable with her. He clenched his jaw, squeezing her waist. Clarke strained closer.

"I don't really like it, to tell you the truth."

She'd rather just have sex with him than anything else. She'd received head, but it was so incredibly awkward and uncomfortable that she wasn't eager to try that with Bellamy. Really, she was just excited that she  _actually_ wanted to have sex, and she was eager to get to that bit.

But Bellamy had other wants.

"Can I give it a try?"

She was scared to have things go wrong, or to embarrass him if it didn't work, but she just nodded. She wanted him to have what he wanted, too.

"If you want to."

He wrapped his arm quickly around her waist, holding her tight to his body as he stood and turned them. Clarke held on as he climbed onto the bed, lowering her to his mattress over the blankets, her head against his pillow. It smelled like him, and Clarke loved that it did. She loved the way he smelled.

He kissed her softly, thumb to her chin. "Tell me if it's bad."

She nodded, and Bellamy began his descent down her body, pressing warm kisses to her collarbone, the swell of her breast, her ribs. He went lower and lower until his face was poised above her hips. Clarke watched him, nervous for it to be horrible and to make things weird, but she was also breathing a little heavier. She liked the way he looked between her thighs.

He didn't waste time teasing her, licking the flat of his warm tongue from her entrance to her clit. Clarke tensed, preparing for the awkwardness, but Bellamy moaned into her, his exhale tickling her hair, and there was no awkwardness whatsoever. A shiver arced down her body unbidden, her legs jerking.

Bellamy flicked his eyes up to hers, humming into her wet flesh, and Clarke's lips parted with a shaky exhale. She fisted the sheets, feet twisting in the bedding as Bellamy sucked on her clit, somehow licking around her entrance at the same time. It felt so good. She'd never liked it before, but  _God,_ it felt good now.

She fell back against the bed, palming her breasts, pinching her nipples.

"Yes or no?" Bellamy murmured.

"Yes, yes, yes," she gasped.

Bellamy tightened his hold on her, licking at her with more vigor, moaning into her again. One of his hands left her thigh, allowing her to roll her hips against his mouth. She looked down briefly, just long enough to see his face between her legs, and then she fell back, clenching. Seeing him eating her out made her even wetter. Bellamy's hand slid along her hip up her belly, and she quickly set her own over his. He turned his hand palm up to hold hers, and then she heard the slick sounds of him jerking off.

She lifted her head to see him, to see him pumping his cock while he ate her out. It was the hottest thing she'd ever seen in her entire life.

He met her eyes, and her toes curled, and she was ready, she was so beyond ready.

"Bellamy," she begged, as though he would understand.

But apparently he did, sucking hard at her clit once more before releasing her with a wet _smack_. His cock was hard and leaking precum. Clarke rocked her hips up at the sight of it as Bellamy crawled over her, leaning down and kissing her softly. She touched her fingers to his jaw, goosebumps shivering along her arms when she tasted herself on his lips, proof that Bellamy's mouth -  _Bellamy's mouth -_  had been on her cunt just seconds ago. She rolled her spine, helping the shiver along, and reached down to wrap her fingers around Bellamy's cock. He grunted into her mouth, pumping once into her palm, and then he was kissing her harder as she stroked him.

His palm drew a firm, slow path from the base of her neck down between her breasts, moving over every inch of her taut belly. He slid it to her waist and then back up to her breast, cupping it and stroking his thumb over her pebbled nipple. Clarke wet her lips, finding it hard to breathe.

Bellamy pulled back and thumbed her cheek, their breaths slow and mingling. He didn't do anything at first, just stared. Clarke released him, feeling a little shy at the intense way he was looking at her, and set her hands against his ribs instead.

He swallowed, taking a deep breath in through his nose, sighing it out slowly.

"You sure about me?" he asked quietly.

Clarke dropped her gaze to his chest, fingers tapping.

"That's a weird question."

He touched her cheek, coaxing her to lift her eyes back to his.

"I gotta know, princess."

She swallowed, folding in on herself a little, feeling vulnerable.

"I'm sure."

Bellamy closed his eyes half a second before his lips met hers, his hand going between their bodies. He quickly rid himself of his boxers, flinging them off the bed with his foot, and then gripped himself at the base of his cock. He rubbed the head along her slit, still kissing her, and then pressed slowly and carefully inside. He was thick, even with just the head in, but Clarke was already clenching, desperate to feel him all the way in.

He broke the kiss, raising himself above her and watching her face as he worked himself in with short, careful thrusts. Her lips parted on a moan, head falling back, and Bellamy slid the rest of the way in with one smooth motion. Clarke jerked her hips up, fingertips digging into his skin before she quickly released, not wanting to hurt him.

He let out a shaky breath and balanced on his palms above her, taking his time with sliding in and out. Clarke had her eyes closed, forcing herself to breathe deeply and slowly through her parted lips. She trailed her hands down his body, along his abdomen, loving the way he felt under her palms, loving the soft, pleased sounds her touch elicited from him.

He pressed further down onto her, dropping to his elbows instead of his hands, and Clarke opened her eyes to lock with his. He stilled then, seated fully within her. He looked back and forth between her eyes, chest moving with deep breaths, and then he leaned down to kiss her tenderly. Clarke slid her hands around to his back, and Bellamy rocked into her once, moving only his hips. But then he stilled again, pulling back to see her.

"I don't know how you want it," he said, brushing her hair off her shoulder.

"This is good," she said, breathless, rolling her hips up. "Just like this, how you were."

Bellamy exhaled and kissed her again, going back to slow, even slides in and out, letting out a quiet sound into her mouth when she clenched around him. Clarke pulled him tighter in her arms, wanting him chest to chest.

She couldn't think properly, her mind stuck on the notion that the man above her, around her, inside her, it was Bellamy, it was Bellamy,  _God,_ it was  _Bellamy._

She moaned, soft and a little shrill, clutching him to her and clenching hard around him. Bellamy grunted, close-mouthed, and dropped his face into her neck. He kissed her over and over while he moved, his abdomen stroking hers with every push in. Clarke was softly whimpering, the noises laced with every shaky exhale. Bellamy abruptly thrust harder, making her cry out. He rose above with her face in his hands to kiss her on the mouth, and then he thrust hard again, and again. Clarke let out a loud, broken moan into his kisses, arching her back and pulling her knees up.

"Oh, God," she said, face heating in embarrassment. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," he breathed, building to a faster pace. "I don't want you to say sorry for feeling good. I want to know it if I'm making you feel good."

She whimpered, loving the way he was talking to her, loving it maybe more than anything any sexual partner had ever said to her before. It was better than all the baseless encouragements and praise she'd received from anyone else, because this was Bellamy, and she cared about him more than the rest of them. She knew he cared for her just as much.

She pressed her head back into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, clenching around him over and over, undoing herself with her own thoughts, her own reminders of the fact that they were best friends and he  _loved_ her, she knew he loved her.

Clarke clenched hard and couldn't seem to let go, something building through her body, something unfurling quick and sudden.

"Oh - fuck," Bellamy groaned, dropping his head next to hers, mouth against her shoulder, pounding into her now. "Yes -  _fuck_ , yes, Clarke."

"I feel something," she keened, pulling in sharp, noisy breaths, rolling her hips up to meet Bellamy's every thrust.

"You're gonna come, princess," he breathed, kissing her shoulder. "I'll help you come."

He paused just briefly, moving one hand between their bodies, and then he was thrusting again with his fingers pressed hard to her clit, rubbing quickly.

"Oh, God!" she cried, toes curling, hands grasping at Bellamy's body, holding him to her.

He was watching her face, his eyes hooded. She could feel herself gripping him, her hips rocking up into him of their own accord. She liked the wet sounds of their bodies coming together, couldn't believe how slick she was just at the  _idea_ of Bellamy wanting her to come on his cock; at the idea of him liking being inside her as much as she did.

"That's it," he said, voice broken. "Come on, that's it. You're there. I can feel it, you're there."

"Bellamy," she whimpered, brows pressed tightly together.

"Look at me, baby, look at me," he said in a rushed whisper.

Clarke was already teetering over the edge when she met his dark gaze, but if she wasn't, that in itself would have done her in. She cried out, her fingers digging into his back, eyes locked with his. Her sharp moans came in waves, and she could  _feel_ them against her throat, dirtier maybe than what she saw on the TV show. She'd thought it was fake before, but she was louder than she'd ever been, and she wasn't faking at all.

Bellamy let out a sharp moan, dropping immediately to kiss her, still rubbing her clit.

"You feel so good," he said between kisses. "God, Clarke, you're doing so good."

She clenched hard around him at the praise, breathing heavily, still tightly gripping his length. She carded her fingers through his soft curls, holding him to her, wanting him closer.

"I want you to come, too," she said, voice nigh on a plea.

Bellamy swore, kissing her again. "I will, sweetheart. Where do you want me to come?"

"Inside," she said at once, running a hand over his shoulders. "Come inside."

"Oh,  _fuck,"_ he groaned, hips slamming into hers.

Clarke was clenching down hard on him on purpose, encouraging him with soft kisses, whispering, _yes, Bellamy, yes._ In the next second, he was letting out deep, satisfied sounds, arms quivering next to her head as he emptied himself inside her, snapping his hips again and again and again.

She loved the wrecked noises he made, loved watching the way his face fell apart as he came, loved being able to feel it happen in her body. She couldn't believe what she'd been missing before, couldn't even fathom why she'd ever had sex with anyone when it wasn't  _this_ way, the way it was with Bellamy. She rolled her hips into his, meeting his every slowing thrust, wanting to extend his pleasure. His exhale was shaky when he collapsed onto her, just barely holding his weight. He weakly kissed her neck, and Clarke closed her eyes, locking her feet at his back.

"It's never been like this," she breathed because she wanted him to know, hands gliding down his still-trembling arms. "I didn't know it could be.

He swallowed and closed his eyes, lifting his head to press his forehead to hers, grazing his thumb over her jaw.

"That's how it's supposed to feel," he said, giving her a soft, delicate kiss. "Just like that."

His heartbeat was slowing, she could feel it against her chest, but her own was racing again.

"I think...." She stopped, nervous.

He dropped his head on the pillow beside her. "Yeah?"

She swallowed, closing her eyes, biting the bullet.

"If you're okay with it ... maybe we can do this on a more permanent basis." She let him remain silent for all of two seconds before fear overtook her and she blurted out, "Like maybe friends with benefits, or--"

"I want to be with you," he breathed, pressing his body closer, his muscles tensing. "Let's be together, me and you."

Clarke let out a quiet, short laugh, biting her bottom lip. Bellamy pulled back, looking back and forth between her eyes, abruptly breaking out into a pleasant smile at whatever he saw there.

He laughed, too, breathless, and then leaned down to kiss her again. They were both smiling so big that their teeth kept knocking, but it only served to make them laugh more, giddy and giggly. Clarke wrapped her arms around Bellamy's shoulders, laughing into his mouth, and Bellamy pressed his forehead to hers, murmuring about how he was prepared to give her orgasms every day of the rest of their lives if she wanted it.

"I want it," she said without hesitation, her face aching from smiling.

"I want  _you,"_ he mumbled, licking up her neck.

Clarke giggled, swatting at him, and then they were rolling over so Bellamy was on his back and Clarke had most of her weight on him. They were wrapped around each other, body to body, legs tangling, hearts beating in tandem.

Somewhere between a kiss and a laugh, Bellamy pressed his lips to her cheek and whispered that he loved her, he was _in_ love with her,  _I'm so in love with you_. Clarke's eyes fluttered closed, her hands gentle in his hair, and when he brushed his mouth against hers, she whispered the same words right back to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo I'm not great at smut, but the only way to get better is to practice, so here I am, practicing. Also I love love ♥ Also I hope you gleaned _some_ enjoyment out of this demi one-shot, Nourgelitnius (and everyone else, of course)! :))


End file.
